


All of You

by HisAngelThursday



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Coda, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Human Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Loving Dean, M/M, Post-Episode: s12e23 All Along the Watchtower, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 00:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11070384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisAngelThursday/pseuds/HisAngelThursday
Summary: Three days after Castiel's death, Dean gets a phone call from a voice he never thought he'd hear again.Turns out, Cas is alive, human, and Dean is given another go at a chance he'd thought he lost.  And this time, he's not gonna waste it.





	All of You

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually do human!Cas, as I generally prefer him as an angel, but if he were to become human again this is how I'd like it to go.

After he got the phone call, Dean couldn’t have driven back to the Kelly’s house fast enough. 

Some part of him was sure that it was just some cruel, cosmic joke, that Cas couldn’t possibly actually be there, alive and waiting for him. 

They’d watched him die, watched the grace flash out of his eyes, seen the wings emblazoned on the ground. Hell, they’d buried him.

Sure, they’d lost Cas before, but this seemed so final. Dean had spent three days in depression, drinking his sorrows, thinking about how he’d never again get the chance to hear Castiel’s voice, wake up to those blue eyes looking down on him.

Thinking how he’d died without ever really knowing how Dean felt about him. 

But then, the phone rang, and Dean, predictably, ignored it. 

It rang three times before Dean bothered to pick up, grunting a tired, “Yeah, what?” into the receiver.

There was a brief pause before a deep, gravelly voice Dean never thought he’d hear again said, “Hello, Dean.” 

 

…

 

Dean found Cas asleep on the sofa, curled up like a shrimp. Some generic reality show buzzed softly on the television set, illuminating the darkened room.

For a long moment, Dean just stared at him. Only his bare feet and shock of dark hair protruded from the thin blanket he was wrapped in, his soft snore permeating throughout the otherwise quiet room. 

It couldn’t really be him. It just couldn’t.

Gently, Dean reached out and let his fingers brush his shoulder, so gently that Cas didn’t even stir. Beneath the blanket, the flesh was toned and warm, and distinctly human. 

Dean tentatively touched him again, this time more firmly, letting his hand rest there a moment. 

“Cas,” he whispered, shaking him gently. “Hey, Cas.”

Cas awakened with a soft, startled snort, sitting up and rubbing his eyes in a way that reminded Dean of a sleepy kitten. 

Dean watched him in sheer awe, unable to believe this wasn’t a dream: this was, most definitely, Cas. His Cas. 

He blinked at him, squinting dazedly. “…Dean?” he inquired, voice still slurred from sleep.

Dean swallowed wetly. “Yeah, it’s me, buddy.” 

The blanket pooled around Cas’s waste, and only then did Dean register Cas wasn’t wearing anything except for his boxers. 

Cas followed his eyes, then gathered the blankets up around him, abashedly. “Apologies,” he murmured. It was difficult to tell in the dim light, but he seemed to be blushing. “My clothes are in the wash. They have been…persistently dirty.”

Dean chuckled, but decided against telling Cas that a suit like that would be dry-clean only. “No worries, man. I’m just happy to see you.” 

Well, that was the understatement of the twenty-first century. Dean realized belatedly his hands were on Castiel’s forearms, though whether they were trying to steady himself or Cas he really didn’t know. He made no effort to remove them.

“So, you’re uh. Sleeping,” Dean remarked, stupidly. “Does that mean you’re low on grace, or…?”

Cas shook his head. “No,” he said gravely. “I’m human. Completely, it would seem. My grace was extinguished when Lucifer stabbed me.”

Dean blinked. This couldn’t possibly be real, could it? Cas was human, and it seemed to be permanent. There’d be no more vanishing off to heaven, no more long, lonely nights wondering where he was. Cas would be soft and warm and tangible now, possibly forever. 

It was a dream come true. Dean was about to say something along the lines of “that’s amazing,” when he realized belatedly Cas was crying, his chest heaving in quiet, painful sobs. 

Dean scooted to sit beside him, never taking his hands off Castiel’s arms, afraid he’d disappear if he stopped touching him for one instant. 

“Cas, buddy, what’s the matter?” he murmured, tipping his head to get a better view of his face. “You’re alive, man. We can finally go home.”

“But I’m a human again, Dean,” he whispered. “I’ll never be anything more than a burden to you now!”

Dean opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again, instead just wrapping the shaking form up in his arms. God, it felt so good to be able to touch him again, to hold him again, soft and warm and alive. 

“You could never be a burden, baby,” Dean murmured, not even questioning where the endearment came from. He breathed in the smell of his mussed-up hair, still slightly damp from the shower and smelling like shampoo. “You never were. And it’s not gonna be like last time, either: I’m gonna take real good care of you, okay? I promise.”

Cas stubbornly pushed him away, still sniffling slightly and refusing to meet his eyes. “I don’t want you to have to take care of me, Dean. You owe me nothing.”

Undeterred, Dean scooted closer to him on the couch, putting a tentative hand on his knee. “Well, I want to,” he said with certainty. “And for the record, yeah, I do: I owe you a hell of a lot, Cas. You pulled me out of hell, saved me in every sense of the word. And I don’t think I can live without you anymore. Or at least, I sure as hell don’t wanna.”

Cas started to cry again, and Dean didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around his bare shoulders, rubbing them gently, making soft, soothing sounds until the tears finally stopped.

Part of him was sad that he’d ever made Cas feel so useless, that he couldn’t convey the indescribable joy of just having him in his life. But another part, the larger part, couldn’t stop being happy that he was here again.

And that was all he needed.

 

…

 

That night, they lay in bed together, Dean gently, soothingly, stroking his fingers through his hair. He hadn’t stopped touching Cas since he’d gotten back, and he didn’t plan on it, either.

“Dean, I was thinking,” said Cas, thoughtfully. “I don’t believe hunting is a good career for me.”

Dean’s fingers momentarily stilled. “No?”

Cas shook his head. “I’ll continue to live in the bunker, of course, and I’d still join you on the occasional hunt, but I don’t believe I want it to be my primary career. I think I’d like to do something else.”

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” Dean asked, more at ease now that Cas had confirmed he was going to keep living in the bunker. 

Cas rolled to face him, looking slightly up at him through long eyelashes. “I think,” he said thoughtfully. “That I’d like to be a professor.”

“A professor?” Dean repeated, a little surprised by the assertion. 

Cas nodded. “I have vast stores of knowledge from my long lifespan, and could easily relay enormous shares of it on history, theology, mythology, mathematics, physics, and/or combat strategies. I also retain fluency in over 150 human languages, and have a significantly higher than average IQ,” he added modestly. “I believe you and Sam would be able to forge me the appropriate credentials?”

Dean took a moment to process it: he thought of Cas coming home in a sweater vest and glasses, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, all nerdy-hot. He liked the image immensely.

“Yeah, baby,” Dean grinned. “I think we can.”

Cas smiled softly, internally relieved at the thought of being useful at something. At being more than just a burden to his human family.

Sensing he was retreating back into his self-deprecating thoughts, Dean brushed a gentle thumb over his cheekbone. “Hey,” he said, tipping Castiel’s chin up to face him, meeting his eyes fully. “We’re gonna have a great life together, you hear? Not normal, I tried that and I think it’s safe to say it ain’t either of our cup of tea, but it will be a great one. I wanna marry you, Cas: I wanna propose, with a ring and everything, and then have a classic hunter wedding. Then I wanna take you on a long-ass honeymoon, somewhere warm and sunny, where we can do it on the beach, and maybe someday, we’ll even have kids. I wanna have it all with you, Cas. And then, someday, we’ll both kick it, and God-willing, we’ll spend eternity together in heaven, doin’ it like bunny rabbits.”

Cas’s eyes grew wider with each passing second, expression unreadable. Three days ago, he wouldn’t have even considered spilling his heart like this. But that was more than enough time to get a taste of what a missed opportunity would feel like, of the hollowness of losing Cas without him knowing how Dean felt.

Dean was never going to let that happen again, consequences be damned. 

After a moment of silence, Dean smirked – trying to hide how vulnerable the confession had left him – and added, “That is, if a gorgeous babe like you is okay with spending eternity with my sorry ass.”

Cas blinked, then nodded mutely, expression vaguely stunned. 

“Yes,” he said finally, voice barely a whisper. “Oh, God, yes.” 

 

… 

 

The next morning, Dean woke up next to Cas for the very first time.

Up close, in the daylight, he could see the delicate stubble of his jaw, full lips chapped and slack with sleep. He could see the dark fan of his eyelashes, the little lines between his eyebrows where they drew together when he was confused. 

Dean couldn’t stop staring. Which, under most circumstances, might be considered the slightest bit creepy, but he figured turnabout was only fair play. And besides, if a man couldn’t watch his back-from-the-dead boyfriend sleep – or fiance, rather – what was the world coming to?

Warmth bloomed in Dean’s chest. He wasn’t sure how this had happened, or why. He didn’t know how he was going to explain this to Sam, and he didn’t care.

All he knew was that Dean Winchester was one lucky bastard, and wanted to wake up next to this for the rest of his life, snoring and all. 

After a while, Castiel blinked open his eyes, blue and beautiful as a pool in summer. He smiled softly, and Dean hoped he was thinking something close to the same thing. 

“Hello, Dean.”


End file.
